For the Love of Suna
by A Lonely Silhouette
Summary: Follow Gaara as he finds his way to redemption and the cure for a wounded heart. He doesn't know it yet, but there is someone out there who cares that he makes it through the chunin exams and back home. Disguised as a an exam proctor, a spectator, and a mysterious masked ninja, his guardian will do whatever it takes to protect Suna's ultimate weapon. Nothing will stop this ninja.


**DISCLAIMER**

I, A Lonely Silhouette, do hereby state with full and honorable truth that I own nothing as to the plot of this story, nor do I own the characters in which this story is about. I own only the situations in which they are placed that have not been written into the manga, shows or films.

_This disclaimer extends in its truth and entirety to the very last word of the very last chapter. _

Signed, _A Lonely Silhouette_

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**Prologue**_  
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There is only one- one remedy with the ability to mend a wounded heart; Love. But, he wondered, who could love a creature like himself? No one. No one but a dead mother who never really knew who he was or what he had become. Could someone love you after life. Gaara was certain, if it was possible, he couldn't feel it. At least, not anymore. As a child, he had often imagined a phantom of a feeling like fuzzy warmth around his heart. When he looked into Yashamaru's eyes, he could see the woman in the picture upon his bedside table. The woman he would've called mother. It was in his eyes that the phantom feeling resided, but after his uncle's betrayal, that phantom and all others like it, abandoned him. Love, friendship, and all other feelings of affection were lost. They belonged on the other side of life with his mother, murdered and buried by his very own hands where they would never come back.

Looking up into the night sky, breathing in the scent of musk and dry, earthy dust as his sand circled him in uneasy waves, he slouched in physical and mental exhaustion. Tomorrow, he would leave the Hidden Leaf Village and be rid of the little pest Naruto. A child so much like himself, it was almost eery to Gaara. That boyish and innocent smile he hid behind could not fool Gaara. Naruto meant serious business. Gaara could see it in his eyes, for they mirrored his own. Eyes that shown in dangerous clarity the purpose behind them. They were both striving to show the world they existed. Though the boy through friendship and teamwork, and Gaara through his selfish manner. That was the only difference between them. Gaara would do anything to make life easier for himself, even if it meant abandoning his teammates, his siblings. Naruto would stand and fight to the death if it meant his teammates, his... friends, were in danger. How niave of him. Would they do the same for Uzumaki, the girl he is so obviously infatuated with and the boy with revenge in his eyes? Gaara was certain they would tuck tail and run for the hills as soon as their enemy was distracted with the little rat.

There is nothing honorable or remarkable about putting one's self in danger for someone who most certainly wouldn't do the same for them. And Gaara was also certain, very certain, that no one else alive would do such a thing for him or that pest, Naruto. The demon in them made sure of that. Who would endanger themselves for such creatures?

It almost seemed Gaara felt some sort of pity for the boy, but he shrugged it off as mere interest in his opponent. It was his weakness, after all. His self sacrificing nature would surely be the death of him.

Gaara closed his eyes and again thoughts of Uzumaki came to him. Gaara gritted his teeth. Since the chunin exams began, since Gaara arrived at the Hidden Leaf Village, Naruto had haunted him. He couldn't phathom why he was so... so... stupid. He didn't even have words for it. The girl with the huge forehead and the boy, Sasuke. Gaara also felt he was much like himself. The three of them, so alone and abandoned. He hoped he would get the chance to fight that Sasuke. Much stronger than Naruto, he would be an entertaining opponent. Gaara would enjoy toying with him.

Gaara vaguely remembered almost having a... friend. Her name was Hikari and she had hair like the sand dunes that were sprawled through the desert. It seemed to flow in waves much like he imagined the ocean would, but he knew for certain the sand, even his sand, held the pattern of her hair. It was even the same color. And though Gaara never touched it, he thought it would feel like silk. She was beautiful in the same sense that the sunrise was beautiful. It was something your eyes could behold everyday, but you never tired of watching or admiring because each day, there was something different you noticed about it.

She didn't know it, nor did anyone else for that matter, but Gaara watched her. Not in a creepy way. It was more like the way he watched the stars or the moon slowly slip across the sky and out of sight. In Suna, she walked the streets with small children from the orphanage. They liked her, or he could even say loved her. She protected them, fed them, and taught them. For that, the children did the same for her. If she was ever in need or let slip she admired something, they would scrounge the money and surprise her.

When Gaara was young, before Yahamaru betrayed him, he tried desperately to be with other children. He remembered children playing with a ball in the streets. It got away from them and rolled in Gaara's direction. He picked it up with his tiny hands, smiled, and held the ball out toward them. The children were frightened of him. Their mothers had warned them about the red headed child, the demon. They ran from Gaara, they jeered at Gaara, they hurt Gaara. But, one child remained. Hikari. She was somewhat taller than himself, and a bit scrawny and knobby-kneed then. She watched the other children run off and turned back to Gaara. She smiled, a true smile that reached her eyes, and said, "Hm, what's with them?" She stepped toward Gaara, held out her hand, and took the ball from him. But, as she did, her tiny index finger slid across the topside of his hand cupping the ball. It was the first time the sand hadn't moved to keep someone from touching him. Gaara's eyes opened wide in surprise. For a second, Hikari's did as well. Of course, her parents had warned her about Gaara and the look on his face obviously scared her for a second. Gaara softened his eyes then and smiled. He smiled and that was all he could do. She visibly relaxed and laughed and Gaara did too. He laughed and he cried. And even though Hikari saw him cry, she didn't say anything and for that, Gaara was thankful. They only spoke a few times after that. But he always remembered that she smiled when they did. Even now, when he passed her in the streets, she would look him in the eye and smile. She was so unlike the others who simply pretended they didn't see him walk by. They would duck their head and pretend to have seen a scuff on their shoe. But Hikari, she never did that... not ever.

The air was still that night, like the calm before the storm. Tomorrow, the Leaf Village would know fear. The Kazekage's orders would be fulfilled and then, Gaara could go home. If that's what you would call it. At least he would see _her_.

Gaara breathed deeply in through his nose, filling his lungs with the musky, almost stale seeming, air until his chest felt as if it would burst. He held the air within him, feeling his body trying to reject it. Slowly, he let it slip out of him into the chilled night air. If he looked closely, he could almost see it float off and disappear. His sand rose from his feet and gradually picked him up to cradle his small body, almost as if he were truly in a cradle. The sand gently rocked him to and fro as if trying to lull him to sleep, but Gaara would not sleep. It seemed that, now, he could map the sky. He'd spent nearly every night of his life gazing up at the blanket of stars and awaiting sunrise. If there was anything he truly enjoyed, it was the sunrise, especially in Suna. The sky turned so red, more of a maroon ruddy red, much like his hair. He liked to think that maybe, if there were a "god", he made him beautiful in that sense. To have the hair of the sunrise, surely he could at least be blessed in that.


End file.
